Hard to Kill
by boboskiwatin
Summary: Gillian's dealing with an unhealthy relationship. She finds help in an unlikely place, Loker. FRIENDSHIP FIC. Read warnings and notes before reading. SLASH.


Title: Hard to Kill

Rating: M

Summery: Gillian's dealing with an unhealthy relationship. She finds help in an unlikely place, Loker. FRIENDSHIP FIC.

Warning/Author's note: This story deals with DOMESTIC ABUSE both in both heterosexual and SLASH circumstances. If you have issue with stories concerning either of these subjects than DON'T READ. On a different note, this story is my first in this fandom and it was very difficult to write. I spent a few days writing it more as a compulsion than anything else. Hopefully it's not OOC on either part but I'm not sure. I only read it as I wrote it so any spelling, grammatical, or continuity errors I apologize for in advance. Please R&R :) or better yet write an Eli story cause there aren't nearly enough

ALSO IMPORTANT NOTE BEFORE READING: the point of view in this story shifts back and forth. I don't have them labelled but it's Foster - Loker - Foster - Loker, etc. Sorry if there's any confusion the POV shifts are acknowledge by a series of dashes.

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~ "We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict." - Jim Morrison ~

It wasn't supposed to be like this, I think to myself. I'm free, bright colors right? That's what I said to Cal only three weeks ago. I hadn't been single since, god I can't even remember. As I walk through the halls of The Lightman Group building I feel like the bright dresses I've taken to wearing are more of a mask than any of the drab, professional rags I wore while married. I've taken to wearing cardigans and stockings as additional armor. I may not be able to hide my expressions from Cal but I can hide my body. How did this happen?

"When you let a caged canary fly free after years of captivity it's likely to fly right in to a lions mouth."

I nearly jump out of my skin, turning to look at Loker, confusion so clear on my face it doesn't take training to see. He looks sheepish.

"My mom used to tell me that. Never really made sense to me. I don't think a pet canary would live too close to a lion. Unless you live really close to a zoo. Or you take your canary to Africa but if you're so attached to a bird that you take it on a safari why would you just let it loose?"

I'm not quite sure if that's a rhetorical question. He's looking at me with such curiosity I nearly consider answering, until the left corner of his mouth twitches. I just roll my eyes.

"Good morning to you too, Loker. Need help with the mail?" It's been a rather slow week. I've gotten all of my paperwork done and Loker's pushing around the heavy mail cart so I might as well help. Cal's not even here yet. I shouldn't feel so relieved.

Loker quirks an eyebrow in response and I join him as he begins strolling down the hallway.

"So, why'd you feel the need to impart your mother's wise animal proverb on me?" It comes off a little catty so I tack what I hope is a warm smile on the end. A flicker of concern crosses his brow and I have a feeling it means my smiles are a little lacking.

He gives me a tight lipped smile, he leans slightly forward and I self consciously flinch back. He gives me a peculiar look as he finishes retrieving the small box from the cart, handing over my shoulder to the office accountant. The burly man's name is Lars. He asked me for drinks with a corny pick up line one day after my divorce. I can feel him leering at me from behind and I'm surprised to see Loker shoot the jerk a warning glare.

We continue down the hall handing out parcels and 'good mornings', my eyes keep flickering to Loker. Cal says we have a strange relationship. He assumed when he hired Loker that I would despise him, to be honest I think that's half the reason why he hired him. Something about Loker's cocky smirk and jaded swagger made Cal imagine it combatting with my "motherly visage and empathetic disposition". We get on well though. From the first day in fact. We got a case with over 500 minutes of video feed so we were stuck in the AV lab for ages. All we had to keep from going catatonic was Eli's magically endless supply of gummy candies and mildly offensive jokes and observations about the subjects of the tapes.

Loker has never walked on eggshells with me. Most men censor themselves when they are around me, I've never understood why. Clients do it, Alec did it, even Lightman to a certain extent. Loker never has, come to think of it neither has Mark maybe that's what drew me to him. As I reach this thought I notice Loker looking back at me with worry. He touches my elbow and I take a startled step back. When did we stop at my office? The mail cart is empty, save for my packages and his. He picks up both stacks and nods towards my office door, like he's inviting me to enter.

This irritates me a bit. It's my own damn office. If I were a spiteful woman I'd slip in and close the door in his face. Instead I hold it open for him and shut it behind him. I have a feeling he intends to stay to chat. Either way I would have closed the door. The door has been closed a lot lately. This is my only sanctuary, from Mark's prying hands at home, and Cal's prying eyes beyond my walls.

"You asked 'how did this happen'."

I turn to see Loker sitting in the chair behind my desk, my chair. I expect him to be smirking at me, proud of his boldness. Instead he isn't even looking at me, in fact he looks almost as if he forgot I was in the room. Wait I had asked that out loud?

I can tell he's seen the surprise on my face and he gets this smile that I've only seen once. It was when he handed in the paper work on that woman who had falsified her memoirs. I told him I had heard they'd gone on a date. I wasn't angry just curious. Then he got that smile, this smile. Not that goofy grin or aggravating smirk but this small, sad, self deprecating smile.

"I don't understand." I suddenly feel exposed. More vulnerable than I have since this started. It hasn't been going on long but it feels like years. My knee jerk reaction is to put my guard up, Cal always says to go with your instincts.

He nods slowly and swivels slightly in my chair. I'm still standing, he's looking at me with what could only be described as an attempt at a Dr. Lightman Head Tilt. I almost yell at him that no matter how bad he wants to be the big dog he'll always just be a clumsy puppy. Defensiveness is my back up weapon.

"You don't do you?"

His expression becomes introspective like he's playing chess and considering his next move. I've never been good at chess.

"You've flown into a lion's mouth, Gillian."

"Loker, I have work to do, I would appreciate it if --"

"You just got divorced!" He says it like one of those confetti poppers. Like the pressure's been building inside of him and the string's finally been pulled. He's not accusing me of anything but I'm still not pleased.

"Excuse me?"

"You have a boyfriend now." They aren't questions, just statements.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, now get out of my office!" He doesn't even blink, just continues as if I hadn't just yelled loud enough that I'm surprised Lightman hasn't tried to break down the door.

"You don't think we've noticed? You've been locked in this room, you hardly talk to anyone, you've been avoiding Lightman. Christ! You've been covering up like we live in the fucking North Pole! Wearing the cover up almost as well as you wear those empty, goddamn smiles!"

His voice has risen too and I feel like I'm floating in limbo.

"Lightman and Torres, they see the clues too, I was just quicker on the uptake," there's that queer smile again, "I may not be a natural and I may not be a master but I see the way you flinch and I see the way your eyes blank like you're lost in yourself."

I wait for the words that will send me over the edge into a new hell.

"Gillian, your boyfriend is abusing you."

I expected an explosion. I expected an accusation. All I get is a calm, quiet acknowledgement. I don't know whether to hug him or hit him. Break down or deny it. Tell the truth or lie through my teeth.

I just glared at him and quietly but firmly demanded he "get the hell out". I was shaking in both fear and anger. He got up cautiously, gave me an imploring look that clearly said this isn't over, and left the room.

The minute the door closes I lock it and sink into my chair.

How did he know? Loker's a damn good researcher but not even Cal could quite piece together the puzzle. I'm pondering the unreadable expression in his clear green eyes and all of a sudden I'm hit with long forgotten images of the month when all employees of The Lightman Group were required to participate in individual psych evaluations. I was given a great deal more documents concerning Eli. I'm not sure if it was because Cal was worried for Loker's sake or that he was going to be a liability because he was the new guy. Either way I somehow got access to Eli's medical and college records.

Graduated with honors from an ivy league school, participated in campus activities, lauded by peers and professors, all in all an excellent student. Except there were six months during his sophomore year when his grades took a dramatic plunge.

I bolt from my chair and rummage through the employee files I keep locked in a cabinet near the window. I pull out the folders marked E. Loker College and E.L. Md. (because I am really not supposed to have that one). I sit back in my chair and look at the dates for the six month spiral Eli had taken when he was 19. I swallow convulsively and open the medical folder. When I first got this folder I merely skimmed through it, too guilty to delve deeply into my young colleagues confidential information. But now he's stuck his nose into mine. I skim over diagnoses of chicken pocks and an appendix rupture to the months of interest.

During those six months he was admitted to the school nurse multiple times for lacerations, burns, and sprains. He was taken to the hospital over fifteen times during the last two months, suffering breaks, rectal tearing, severe dehydration and two near fatal overdoses. Injuries during the final weeks of the six months of brutality were photographed. I suddenly felt ill.

The photos created a collage of violence, cruelty that could not be mistaken for self inflicted. What really horrified me though is that his bruises weren't all that different from my own.

-----------------

Dr. Foster walks into the AV room where I usually set up camp. I like to set up in this corner because I can see who enters in the reflection on all the computer screens. It's fun to know that people walk in unaware that I'm watching their every move.

As she steps through the threshold I see her pull her bright yellow cardigan firmly around herself. She could be doing this in an attempt to steal herself for a difficult confrontation or maybe I'm overanalyzing and it's just because this room is significantly colder than the rest of the building to keep the computers from overheating. She's still standing awkwardly looking like she either wants to run over to me or get the hell outta dodge. Wow awkward would have never been a word I would use to describe Gillian Foster, she is the picture of poise and grace. That's probably why every man she meets become chivalrous gentlemen. Not me though, and I'm getting antsy so I decide to bite the bullet for her.

"Come on in and pop a squat, Dr. Foster," I swivel around to see fright and surprise color her features, I can't help but smirk "You look like I'm a mad scientist about to set my robot minions out to destroy the world."

I've been told by many of the interns that I look a little crazy when I'm alone in the AV room surrounded by computers with my hair sticking out from under my headphones and the flashing digital images reflecting off of my face. I won't say I'm not pleased with the imagery.

Focus, Eli!

I turn back to the computer, tapping dramatically on the keys, knowing Dr. Foster will sit to my right any second now. When she does I force myself to pay attention to the screen before me. She won't want my help if I make her feel like a wounded specimen, pitiful but ultimately being aided for the sake of selfish observation. I set up the pieces on the board now she needs to make the first move.

"I read your medical records!" I know surprise and amusement are warring to take residence in my expression. Amusement wins because an outburst like that is so not Dr. Foster, I think I'm a bad influence on her.

I make a noncommittal noise and cock my head a little for her to go on. Her face becomes stoney and now I'm sure surprise is ruling my eyebrows with an iron fist.

"Just because you experienced an--" she stumbles over the word only solidifying my conclusion, "a difficult relationship does not mean that that is what I am going through."

"Sure."

"You're just transferring your situation on to me so that you can play the hero rather than the victim."

"Probably."

"I've been dating Mark three weeks and he has been nothing but, but kind, and sweet, and loving."

"You have a strange perception of love."

"You're one to talk, I don't come in with broken bones and whip marks on my back and track marks in my arm!"

"Yet."

"Damn it Loker, just because you're fucked up doesn't mean that I am!"

She looks horrified and guilty after it's said but more terrible is the desperation painfully evident in her voice. I still haven't taken my headphones off, I know she needs some sort of barrier between us to let her guard down. At her last comment I finally look over to her and quirk my eyebrows up.

"God, Eli, I'm so, I'm so sorr--" I respect Dr. Foster, and to be honest I adore Gillian, she's like the big sister I never had, but the woman can not be mean to save her own life. I'm not upset about her comment, in fact I would have been more worried if she hadn't gotten defensive.

"Don't apologize for the truth, but there are two flaws in your theory." She halts her apology as her natural curiosity is peaked. I smile a little, even in a conversation like this the researcher in her prevails.

"First of all it's been almost eight years since my boyfriend beat the shit out of me," if she's going to be obtuse I'm going to be tactless, "and second," I grab at for her hand too fast for her to jerk away and push up the sleeve of her sweater, exposing what she had been hiding from everyone, including herself.

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I feel like my heart has stopped beating. Eli is holding on to my hand gently but firmly. I'm numb to the dark bruising on my arms but feel a sudden crack in my armor at the feeling of his cool fingers grasping mine. Have I become so used to Mark's clawing touches that a simple gesture feels like the first time I fell in love. Now who's transferring emotions?

"Gillian," I look up and see sadness and resolve solidify in his pale features, "let's get out of here, yeah?" He says it as if my darkest secret hadn't just been exposed, like he's just a colleague asking another colleague to go grab some coffee. It's night time though and we're the only ones left in the building, it took me all day to come up with the courage to confront Loker about his earlier comments and what I had read in his file.

Eli's shutting down the throng of gadgets surrounding us. I stand up heading to my office to retrieve my my bag and extra paper work, I take my time, I don't want to leave yet. I don't want to have to go home to him, how did I let this get so far?

I must have taken longer than I thought because next thing I know Eli's leaning against my doorframe, his messenger bag comfortably laying across his body. As I pass him he hands me his worn, leather jacket. It's cold outside and I realize I've forgotten my wool coat in my haste to leave my house this morning. I'm always surprised how detail oriented Eli is. I think he hides behind his goofy comments and attention problems, he likes to allow others a false sense of security, maybe not false per se but he still keeps a carefully subtle upper hand.

"Won't you be cold?" I ask taking the coat from him as he answers.

"Naw, after an entire day in the research office a chilly DC night feels like I'm walking along the equator."

Eli talks the entire walk to the Metro station. Trivial topics that neither of us are really paying attention to but his voice is a comforting presence so I don't interrupt him. We both take the blue line from work every day but I usually get off at least an hour before him so we rarely ride together. It's late so we're able to get seats in the nearly empty train. We ride for nearly ten minutes and my hands begin to shake as we near my stop. Eli's eyes are closed and his fingers are tapping rhythmically on his knee to the soft music echoing through his headphones. As we arrive at my stop I think he's fallen asleep so I carefully rise from my seat, only to once again have my hand trapped in the unyielding grip of my colleagues. I look at him quizzically and his eyes all of a sudden seem much lighter, like peppermint ice cream, my favorite. He pulls me lightly to sit back down beside him and I oblige, my only protest a confused twitch between my eyebrows.

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It's another fifteen minutes before we reach our destination. I nudge Dr. Foster whom has fallen into a light dose on my shoulder. She raises her head looking surprised that she had fallen asleep and I can't help but wonder when was the last time she slept a full night. She smiles sheepishly as we get up and head out of the station. She doesn't ask where we're going and I don't offer up that information. I'm still not sure if this is a good idea but I know it's better than her going back home tonight. As we reach my apartment building I realize maybe I should have told Torres what was going on and have Gillian stay with her. At least my roommate is out of town until January, shit how am I going to pay rent?

I unlock the gated entrance and step into the main lobby. I look around the hallway hoping I don't run into the landlord. I sneak into the mailbox nook and quickly grab the new additions to my ever growing stack of bills. I smile at Dr. Foster, she looks more curious than anything else, slowly turning in an unconscious circle trying to take in everything around her. I usher her toward the elevator where we head up to the fifth floor. As we reach my door I feel a rush of panic. This is one of my bosses, and I'm forcing her into my grungy, unkempt apartment. Fuck, whatever, more important matters are at hand than my dignity. I pull the notice the building manager has left on my door stating that rent is a week over due, and open the door.

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"Sorry it's such a mess." It isn't though. It's not pristine of course but it looks lived in. There's exposed brick wall in the kitchen and the walls of the living room are painted a warm burnt orange, complimented by comfortable dark brown furniture and piles of books and papers. Even though it's not what I expected it's very Loker. The dark blues and greys of his outfit stand out in contrast to the orange of the walls without looking out of place, all in all it's a very welcoming, organic space.

I didn't realize I had been turning until I stopped facing a self conscious looking Eli. He just shrugs and begins giving me a tour.

He begins with the kitchen, it's well stocked but seems unused, understandably considering the hours he works. We walk through the living room to an unremarkable bathroom save for the teal walls and large bathtub with salts and oils around it. I can't help but tease him for being so girly. He scoffs and says he can't help that he appreciates the finer things in life and that I'm just jealous. And like that the thick tension is broken and we continue down the hall. He opens the door to his roommates room only enough for me to see piles of textbooks and papers stacked up against dark blue walls and neatly made bed.

"He's in Guatemala, working on research for his archeology degree. Won't be back for a couple months." I nod in understanding as we reach a room at the end of the hall, Eli's bedroom, it's not as cluttered as his roommates room, but then he's usually at work. The walls are a dark green that agrees with Eli's complexion and makes his hair look darker and his eyes look brighter. There's a desk that looks like an older version of the video equipment we have at work. I have a feeling even when Cal demands Loker goes home that the research doesn't end there. There's an acoustic guitar in the corner by his desk that looks like it's not just for show like the one Alec kept in a case in the foyer of our home. As I turn to examine the comfy looking bed in the middle of the room Eli holds a stack of clothes in front of me. I look from the too big t-shirt to the pajama pants, up his arm to his smiling face.

"An ex girlfriend left these I figure they're the only things that'll fit you," he place the pile in my hands, "you're staying here tonight."

He exits the room before I register what he's just declared, making it clear there's no room for discussion. I'm torn between being angry or relieved.

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I know I caught her off guard but this has to be resolved tonight. This is the best I could come up with. It worked for me, it'll work for Gillian, right?

I come out of Riley's room, he won't mind that I'm wearing some of his old sweatpants and an old worn out Ramones shirt. Well he might mind the shirt but whatever he lost my first copy of Cat's Cradle on the bus last month.

I walk back into the living room and sit behind the piano I had inherited from my mom. I've had to sell most of my valuables to pay the bills, including my beloved Gibson guitar and Molly my moped. This piano and my old acoustic are the only things I can't bring myself to part with. I start playing Chopin's Étude Op.10 No.3 in E major as I try to prepare myself for the upcoming conversation and wait for Gillian to come out.

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As I walk into the living room I hear Chopin being played on the piano. Used to love seeing classical performances with Alec when we first began to date. I sit carefully on the lumpy couch hoping not to disturb Eli as he plays beautifully on a well kept piano I hadn't noticed when we had first entered. I knew he was well versed in music from the time we had to determine whether a composer in the DC symphony had plagiarized from the work of another and Eli was responsible for comparing sound waves of hundreds of songs. I had walked in on him taping with the fingers of his left hand as if the table were a piano.

He finishes the piece and there's a heavy emptiness looming in the silence.

"You're classically trained?" He never startles when people sneak up behind him. I'm surprised until I notice that he can see my reflection in the window behind the piano. I see look back at him and he smiles warmly. He's different in the comfort of his own space. I'm jealous.

He isn't as animated as he is at work, trying to make an impression at the same time he's trying to make himself seem as harmless as possible. Here he's quieter, as laid back as ever but in a less forced manner.

"My mom was a music teacher, taught me on this very piano.' He says proudly as he turns on the bench to face me. There's a long pause.

"Eli, why did you bring me here?" I had an inkling of the answer but I wanted to hear it from him. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him and his eyes staring into mine. He looks much older.

"I need to tell you a story," I nod in confusion, "do you want a beer?" He's halfway to the kitchen before I can stutter out an answer.

He hands me an opened bottle and sits down in a comfortable looking recliner to my left. He looks at me, then away and takes a long drink. I sit patiently, silently urging him to begin.

"I lived a really sheltered life," he's staring down at the bottle in his hands, scratching at the logo, "my parents got divorced when I was two and I lived with my mom. I was all she had after my dad left so she was really, really protective," he says this with a conspiratorial smile that I can't help but mimic, "I spent most of my time with her, she home schooled me, took me to the park, she worked at a small museum and let me spend a lot of time there."

He looks up at me every few moments and then away. "She died when I was ten, hit by a drunk driver," he doesn't pause long enough for me to offer condolences, "I was sent to live with my dad. He was a metaled, officer in the navy when he was younger and earned a great deal as a lawyer later in life. He's really big on appearances and didn't appreciate that the kid of his estranged, ex wife was placed under his care. He set me up with a really strict regimen. Wake up, run, breakfast, school, work, homework, dinner, sleep, every day for eight years. By the time I was off to college I hated him but I was obsessed with getting his approval. I busted my ass my freshman year, so scared that if I didn't he'd, I don't even know what I thought he'd do but I was terrified," I hate that self loathing smile, and I hate to think I'm partly responsible for it.

"Then I got a C- in some stupid elective class my second semester. I had never in my life gotten anything below a B+. Suffice to say I was going crazy with worry that my dad would freak." I nod I was like that too, I took a great deal of pride in the hard work that went into earning my degrees.

"He didn't even notice," his big green eyes look at me imploringly, "I was so upset and he didn't even care. He had a new wife and a new daughter and I realized that as long as I wasn't representing him, as long as I wasn't seen by his colleagues or his neighbors, I didn't exist."

"If he didn't care, why should I? I started spending all of my time partying, and meeting people and exploring and experimenting. I had spent my entire life being restrained so I rebelled. Nothing felt drastic enough though, it all felt cliched and petty. So I went back to the old me. I liked school, learning, reading. Ironically I finally got over the stupid rebellion shit when I met Jeremy."

The way he says his name makes me shiver. Not because it's dripping with hatred but quite the contrary, Eli says the name with a sense of reverence and complete adoration.

-------------------

I've only told this story three times. Once to Madeline, once to the police, and once in court.

"I did some tutoring during college for extra cash and Jeremy was one of my clients. He was awful at science so I spent Thursday nights tutoring him in the empty labs. He was a few inches taller than me, less wiry, and really good looking. He had brilliant blue eyes and light brown hair and all the girls seemed to hang off of him."

I can't help but smiling thinking of how all those girls would giggle as he'd pass but he never noticed them, just kept smiling at me. It was a huge ego boost.

"We got along really well. He was smarter than anyone gave him credit for. We spent a lot of time together so he could get an A in class. Then we kept hanging out even after he passed, which surprised me because I wasn't anything particularly special. We would go out to dinner and to movies. I'd go over to his house to watch games and he'd come over to mine to listen to me play guitar. I didn't even realized we had gotten really close until one night we got a little drunk and he kissed me."

I don't look at Gillian. I don't want to see the flicker of disgust I'd seen so many times before. I realize that that's not fair, Gillian is the most tolerant person I've ever met. I cautiously glance at her and see nothing but slight concern so I continue, more than a little relieved.

"We started dating after that night. Not openly, Jeremy liked all the female attention and I liked the privacy. I went really well until we started having sex," I swallow the painful lump in my throat and take a long drink from my beer, "Jeremy really liked having sex when he was high. It started with ecstasy. He asked me to do it too so he didn't feel so guilty. I did it. I would have done anything he asked."

I feel like I'm there again. Like he's next to me on my bed pressing a pill onto my tongue and leaning his lips against mine as I swallow. I finish off my beer as I shake the images away.

"This went on for about a month and a half. I was really in love with him. Then he asked me to get a campus apartment with him, and everything started going to hell."

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Eli has hardly looked at me so far and the tale hasn't even gotten bad yet. He's holding his empty beer so hard I'm worried he'll shatter the thick glass.

"He started getting really bossy and would come home so high sometime that he wouldn't recognize me. I found out soon after that he was doing harder drugs. I don't know when he started and I had no idea what to do. He said it wasn't a big deal and I wanted to believe him so I did."

"He never made me do that stuff with him. I know it's fucked up but that kind of upset me, like I thought he didn't want me to spoil it for him or something. Anyways I was working on a midterm paper one night and he came home completely trashed. I was already irritated so when I saw the hickey and smelled the perfume on him I flipped. I screamed at him that he was a worthless, cheating, junkie. He punched me in the face for the comment."

He doesn't look at me.

"I was stunned and the argument stopped and he stumbled to our room and passed out. I rationalized the whole thing. I just thought okay he was trashed and what I said was really harsh so it's all okay, right? He apologized the next morning and I forgave him on the spot. I think he took that as a sort of invitation to continue the behavior."

He says it with a wry smile, I don't think I had ever seen Loker look bitter. I would remember this expression for the rest of my life, it embodies everything I've felt since this whole mess began, like I hate everything, like I want to cry for help, like I want to hide from everyone, like I deserve this.

"I usually just had to deal with bruises and burns, you know?" and I do, "they weren't hard to hide or play off like 'yeah some drunk jock punched me in the face at a party because he thought I was flirting with his girlfriend', I lied more during the time I was with Jeremy than I had my entire life."

The psychologist in me can't help figure that that's the reason Eli went into this field. He wanted to spot not only the criminals but the victims, needing help but not having the voice to ask directly.

"Things started to get worse as the stress of the semester built up. He was more reckless and aggravated. He'd get pissed at me other the stupidest shit," Loker's hands flex in anxiety at the memories, "I was busy a lot with classes, my grades had been steadily declining and I had to spend most of my time in labs and libraries to catch up. I came home really late once and he started yelling at me for cheating on him. Said I didn't love him anymore and that I was a whore. Then he got really frantic and said he could make me love him again."

"He grabbed a syringe and jabbed it into my arm before I had time to react. I don't remember too much from that night but I think my knees gave out and he fucked me on the floor. I found out the next morning he had shot me full of heroin."

I can't help that my eyes go wide. Memories of the photos in his medical record showed track marks on Eli's left arm. Some were scattered along his forearm like there wasn't time to find a vain. Plus Eli's left handed so it'd be a little awkward for him to inject himself with his non dominant hand.

"He realized that drugs were a really good way to keep me around him. Not because I wanted them but because they'd make me docile, I couldn't really function high. He'd shoot me up while I slept so I'd wake up high and not go to class. I would just lie around the apartment like a rag doll for him to play with."

He's so lost in his story, talking a mile a minute, pausing only to take a short breath every few moments. He hasn't looked at me in ages.

"He had to go to court for a DUI charge one day and I was left at home. When I sobered up I had a near break down. I flushed all of the drugs in our apartment and poured out all of the alcohol. Didn't consider the consequences I just blew up. Jeremy nearly beat me to death when he got home."

"Suffice to say my little revolt accomplished absolutely squat. Still did drugs, still missed classes, still got knocked around, blah blah blah. Then when finals came around everything changed."

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I remember now why I hate telling this story. Yeah, because it sucks and hurts and is humiliating but mostly because I feel like I'm reading The Jungle outloud, things just keep getting worse for the Rudkus family! I'd be surprised if Gillian's still listening. I've gotten this far though so I might as well continue.

"I went in to take my art history final, I was an hour late because Jeremy and I had had a fight that morning. As I sat down I could feel my left eye bruising and my right arm swelling. I didn't know any of the answers to the test. I must have been staring at it for at least two hours because next thing I know Madeline, Professor Grady, she taped me on the shoulder and I nearly jump out of my chair." Like Gillian flinched when I reached past her to pick up a box this morning.

"I looked around and realized I was the only one left in the classroom. I remember feeling really weird about that. Like I was under water. I don't know why. Maybe I realized all of a sudden how lost I was. I couldn't even take a test like a normal person anymore. Madeline was always really nice to me. She was stern but a good teacher and everyone liked her. I remember she looked at my face," I wonder if she could see my eyes under the unruly bangs Jeremy made me grow out because he liked something to grab onto, "she knew immediately that I needed help. She was like Ria, you know, a natural." I see Gillian nod out of the corner of my eye.

"She asked me if I was okay and I nearly had a heart attack. I stuttered I was fine and jumped out of my seat with the intention of getting as far away from her as possible, I didn't even care that my test was only half done. In retrospect, I think she knew the exact moment I decided to bolt because the second I was out of my chair she grabbed my arm in desperation. The same arm Jeremy slammed in a door this morning. I made the ridiculous decision to go to class instead of the emergency room and I was definitely regretting it as my vision tunneled from the pain."

"I don't know how she did it but next thing I knew I was in the passenger seat of her car. It didn't even seem weird to me that my teacher was driving me to some undisclosed location. I was just really numb, which I guess wasn't really a new thing."

Gillian clasps her hands in a self comforting gesture. I stop myself from looking at her knowingly. We'll deal with that soon.

"I kept spacing in and out. One minute we're on the highway, the next in the waiting room of the ER that I'd become a regular at, the next some doctor is rolling up my sleeve to check my arm and Madeline's hand goes to her mouth. Then I'm lying in a hospital bed, I can see Madeline talking quietly with the doctor outside my room and they seem to come to an agreement."

In retrospect I don't know how she was able to stay with me for so long, I think she told the doctor she was my mom or aunt or something. Usually when I end up here they call Jeremy, whom is ironically my emergency contact. He always rushes in looking concerned that I managed to be so clumsy again. I shake myself out of my own head and continue before Gillian gets too concerned.

"I remember she came in and gave me two options. Either I could be sent to a rehabilitation center in El Paso, Texas or I could report whomever was hurting me and stay with her until I cleaned my life up. She says that those were the only options, that when I was changed into my hospital gown they saw the track marks on my arm and the bruises and the fresh scars."

It always seemed strange to me that I had been in this hospital more than a dozen times with those same injuries and they had never been commented on. I guess it's because before this I had never had anyone in my life who cared enough to question them. I pretty much cut myself off from all of my friends when I started seeing Jeremy and I had stopped talking to my family long before that.

"It took me longer than it should have to decide. Not really because I loved Jeremy, which I did but I had realized he wasn't a good man. It was more so because I didn't think my life was salvageable."

-----------------

I can understand that sentiment. Pain becomes status quo and the routine is almost comforting. God, Eli was 19 years old and he thought his life was over. I feel a swell of pride but more surprisingly spark of hope, something I hadn't thought possible, run through my chest at the realization that even after that Eli's life had improved.

"It was really hard but I decided to press charges on Jeremy for domestic battery. I stayed in the hospital for a couple weeks, let the police take pictures of my body, gave statements. If Madeline hadn't been by my side the whole time I probably would have ran. The trial was brutal, the defense attorney called me every name under the sun, accused me of all sorts of terrible things. The worst part though that the entire time Jeremy just looked at me like I was breaking his heart. He was sentenced to three years in jail since it wasn't his first offense." I was so shocked when I found out he'd hit a girlfriend two years ago.

When all the legal shit was over, I went to stay with Madeline for a little more than a year. She said I needed to be focussing on completing the courses I had missed rather than worrying about paying for a place to stay. When word got to my dad that I was taking my boyfriend to court he cut me off. It's kind of funny really that it takes a trial and a public declaration that I'm less than heterosexual to finally get my dad's attention and he ends up hating me for it."

I want to tell him there isn't anything funny about this story. More than anything though I want to track down his father and smack him in the face. I vaguely wonder how Eli can afford rent here as an unpaid intern.

"The year went by painfully slow. I was depressed for the first couple months. I only did drugs once. I was so frustrated and tired and I just wanted to leave the whole mess behind. I woke up in the hospital and went back to Madeline's a week later. I don't know how she convinced the doctor not to commit me, it was my second overdose in two years. Regardless I never really liked the way those drugs made me feel so it wasn't hard to stop, withdrawal was hell but I didn't really have an cravings or anything like that," he clears his throat abruptly seeming to think he's getting off topic, " uh, anyways, things got better you know? I finally caught up in school, got a part time job, a new place, new friends, then I finished school and moved to DC." The 'before Jeremy got out of jail' was left unsaid but understood.

There was an uncomfortable silence after Eli's quick, awkward ending, similar to the thick silence after he had finished playing the piano only an hour ago. I have a feeling Eli's embarrassed that his retelling took so long, like I'm going to be irritated or bored.

He won't look at me so I carefully take the long empty bottle from him and place my my left hand around his right, not squeezing his palm but just resting my fingers along his. He looks at me then with a smile, nothing like his usual grin but it's genuine and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"So, you have too options," his head cocks to the side in a graceful manner, "I can either tell Dr. Lightman and let him handle this or you can report whomever's hurting you and stay with me until you clean your life up."

I smile despite the circumstances at the way he mimics the words of his own savior. I'm surprised at how easy it is to nod, given that only a few hours ago I had been vehemently denying any sort of victimization.

I realize now that by trying so hard to maintain this unhealthy relationship I was trying to retrieve some sense of normalcy. I had been with someone for so long that I've become dependent on others, thinking I need someone else to make me happy. I was thinking to myself that maybe it isn't an accident that the first man I really connect with since Alec is a violent person, maybe it's karma. That doesn't seem like a fair assessment now.

Eli didn't do anything to deserve the way he was treated, neither do I.

Eli got his life back on track, found The Lightman Group, something new to love.

Maybe, with his help, maybe I'll gain something from this experience.

-----------------------

She's been quiet a long time. I messed this up. I thought telling my story would help her come to terms with her own. That maybe she would realize that she doesn't deserve to be treated like that, no one does. Did I make this too much about myself? I didn't want to scare her off, make her feel like she's under a microscope. She'll get enough of that regardless of which option she chooses. She finally looks up from our joined hands.

"Where should I set up camp?" It's not her usual gentle smile but it's genuine and I let go of a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"You can stay in my room, it's a little cleaner than my roommates and at least I know you won't stumble on my porn stash if you stay in there." I smirk jokingly, well half jokingly. She arches an eyebrow as if she's accepting my challenge. Her face goes steely all of a sudden and my head tilts in anticipation.

Her blue eyes are so full of emotion it takes all the will power I can muster not to look away from their intensity.

"What happens next?"

-----------------------------

He looks away then, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. After a moment of thought his eyes settle back on mine.

"We sleep."

~ Occam's Razor: the simplest answer is often the right one. ~


End file.
